


The Culinary Adventures of Jenna Black

by emeraldcitydowntowngirl



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Attempt at Humor, Brendon Urie Being an Idiot, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Occasional Ryan Ross, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, halsey is everyone's little sister, i do not stan brendon anymore but, solo artist tyler, this shit requires some suspension of disbelief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29013849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldcitydowntowngirl/pseuds/emeraldcitydowntowngirl
Summary: Jenna is Clancy’s best friend who just happens to be the star of a Food Network show wherein she follows Clancy on tour and makes food in the venue kitchens.Josh is Clancy’s biggest fan who just happens to be homeless and jobless.And Clancy is a first-time Grammy nominated artist who’s going on his first headlining tour across the East Coast. And his real name's Tyler.(OR: The one where Tyler is a solo artist under the name Clancy, Josh happens to be in the right place at the right time, Jenna is actually a Food Network celebrity, Brendon is Clancy’s drummer, Halsey is opening for Clancy, and Sameer is just trying to make sure that no one dies on this tour)
Relationships: Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5





	The Culinary Adventures of Jenna Black

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is set in 2014ish but like don't quote me on that.... because i cant do research for fanfics to save my fucking life -_- lets just say that the general vibe is 2014 but no one can be sure

_“Time stands still. Time stands still. There’s a metaphor in hand… a metaphoric blast which only few will understand…”_

Tyler stands still. His eyes are closed and his own words, masked by a filter, spit back into his consciousness. Whenever he practices this, he gets a dirty taste in his mouth, something thick like blood, and when he breathes in deep through his nose, the smell of sweat stuck in the fabric of his ski-mask greets him. His routine is just that—a routine. He could do this in his sleep and none of the details of this would ever change. He just practices it because it brings him comfort in some twisted way.

_“Under clothes…”_

His arm aches from its position—pointing at an empty drum set with his hand in the shape of a gun.

_“Under skin…underneath, we’re all the same! For when you remove the tricky tricks, only skeleton bones remain.”_

A shot rings out in his ears, he mimics shooting his absent drummer, and right before the other shot comes, he presses his two fingers to the soft warm skin underneath his chin. His thumb flexes when he hears the other shot, and he falls back onto his thin mattress.

Tyler listens to his loop as he stares up at the venue ceiling. This little skit (it’s not a skit, but Brendon kept calling it a skit, and Tyler kept telling him that it wasn’t a fucking skit, but Brendon wouldn’t stop insisting that it was a skit, so now Tyler’s calling it a skit) is supposed to come after _A Car, a Torch, a Death_ and before _Ruby…_ which would be fine, except now Tyler’s having second thoughts about pretending to shoot one of his closest friends and himself before he sings about someone’s dead kid. 

Tyler has those a lot—second thoughts. Except they’re not second thoughts as much as they’re, like, fiftieth thoughts. He’ll second guess himself, and then rerun that new thought over until it multiplies, until he’s just freaking the fuck out over nothing. Sort of like what he’s doing now. But, it’s not dumb, his overthinking, it’s—he’s sort of famous now, he can’t do anything stupid, and his parents don’t even really like the skit anyway, because it implies that Tyler would do something to himself, and Tyler wouldn’t, really, it’s just part of the whole thing, it’s like…just a fantasy, like a _what if_ , not _actual reality,_ and—

“Yo!” a voice interrupts Tyler’s stream of freaking out. “They wanna start setting up for Halsey, it’s almost five.”

This would be Brendon. Tyler looks over and sees him standing by his drum set with a Loaded Nacho Taco in one hand and a beer in the other. “It’s freaky seeing you do that over and over again when you’ve got your headphones in,” Brendon says. 

“It’s freaky no matter what I do,” Tyler grumbles, rolling over into the mattress. He reaches into his hoodie pocket and he pauses the track on his iPod nano before pulling off his ski-mask. “Where’d you get the taco? I thought Jenna was making something for the show. Stuffed green peppers or whatever.”

“Ryan dropped some off,” Brendon says between bites. “It was his parting gift to me, that broke bitch.”

Ryan is Brendon’s fiancé. He’s pretty okay. He’s a touring musician like Brendon, just not a touring musician for Tyler. Tyler’s whole _thing_ is that he does everything by himself, but playing live with tracked drums never sounded right to him. This is where Brendon comes in. 

“Oh. I mean, that’s nice, I guess? That he got you a gift.”

Brendon gives him a skeptical look. “We’re getting married and he got me _Taco Bell._ Oh, and he got me a shitton of weed, but it’s all indica. Like, what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? _Sleep_? I’m a fucking rock star…’s drummer!”

Tyler loves Brendon—he does. Brendon’s the only person that’s ever really come close to understanding Clancy the way that Tyler does, he’s the only person Tyler actually trusts with it when it comes to the stage. But Brendon can be so fucking ungrateful, like, _all of the time._

“I think that’s sort of the dream, you know,” Tyler gently reminds him. “Taco Bell and a sleeping aid. He knows you have trouble sleeping on the bus sometimes, it was a nice gesture. I wish someone would get me Taco Bell and…well, cigarettes.”

Brendon scoffs. “Whatever. You wouldn’t say that if you were on the receiving end of this shit. And I can’t even cut off sex because I’m gonna be gone. Hey, let’s fuck to piss him off! I’ll let you bottom because I know you love that shit.”

Tyler gives him an exasperated glance before he walks away. Brendon also does this thing where he has to be the most vulgar person in the room or else he’s not happy and normally Tyler wouldn’t care about it but everything in his brain feels all mushy and raw and sore the way that it always gets when he overthinks and he needs a break from it all. 

It’s the first night of the first leg of the _Two Halves of My Heart_ tour and Tyler’s been on edge since 8 o’clock in the morning. 

The burning warm inhale from his sixth cigarette of the day brings back the memories of the past 10 hours to him like a swift punch to the nose. He woke up late and spit black charcoal into the sink in his parents house and remembered that he forgot to pack extra toothpaste. He cut himself while shaving and he freaked out about the blood before he realized he was just freaking out about leaving home which was stupid because he had gone on tour tens of times. Except this time was going to be different, of course, because he would be headlining. Which _should be_ better, because everyone would be there to see him, but _oh my God, everyone is there to see him._ He took three calls from his manager during breakfast and had to go outside to smoke as a result of it and his mom gave him a look through the window that reminded him of being a little kid and that look stayed in Tyler’s head all the way up till they reached the venue because she made a comment about Brendon to his face and Brendon had the nerve to say something back to her and then Tyler’s stomach hurt when he thought about what she said to him. Tyler puked in the bathroom and then awkwardly ran into Halsey/Ashley/Whatever-the-fuck-she-wants-to-be-called-by-him and then he had to explain to her that he wasn’t usually like this but he could tell that she was looking at him weird, kind of like the way that his mom looked at him earlier, like something was wrong with him. And now that look is in his head again and what if it’s on everyone else’s face in the crowd and what if he disappoints them, disappoints them like he’s disappointed his parents, and Halsey/Ashley/Whatever-the-fuck-she-wants-to-be-called-by-him, and, fuck, maybe Brendon’s disappointed that Tyler can’t hear one stupid sex joke without falling apart, and–

Tyler exhales and the rest of that thought goes with the smoke. It floats in the cold air and the feeling lingers for a moment, all of that residual hurt and angst, and then it just goes away.

And then Tyler inhales again. So, he’s got a smoking problem. And some mommy issues. And issues in general. It’s fine. Just like with the cigarettes, Tyler just shoves all of his feelings into Clancy. So when his tour manager comes out back and finds Tyler, Tyler’s all good and packaged up nice and neat with all of that bad energy whisked into the wind. 

“Hey,” Sameer says, that worried dip between his eyebrows present in the way that it always is when he’s with Tyler on tour. “You good?”

Tyler shrugs. “Peachy. What’s up?”

“Jenna wants you,” Sameer looks down at the smoke in Tyler’s hand and then he looks away when he realizes that Tyler’s following his gaze. “Well, technically, I think the Food Network wants you? I’m not really sure. But Jenna’s calling for you.”

Jenna’s Tyler’s best friend. And she’s a Food Network celebrity doing a show all about the wonders of following her best friend through various cities on his sold out tour. 

There’s a lot happening in Tyler’s life.

* * *

“Do I look like a moron to you?” is how Jenna greets Tyler when he comes back from Makeup and onto the makeshift set that she and her Food Network team created in the Newport Music Hall kitchen. 

“What did Ned do now?” Tyler asks, hopping onto the steel counters and mentally preparing himself for the rant that’s to come. He almost rubs his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up before he remembers right at the last second that Jenna’s makeup people plastered and blended in some concealer over his dark circles to make him look less dead. Their words, not his. So then he just opts for awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Nothing,” Jenna glares at him. And Tyler knows that that glare isn’t directed at him, but again…sometimes looks just freak him out. It doesn’t ever help that Jenna reminds Tyler of his mother in so many ways, right down to the blue eyes. “He did absolutely nothing. It’s like, do we _fucking_ pay you to do nothing? I gave him just one job today, even though I could have given him more. I said something to the effect of, _‘Ned, can you please do me a favor, can you make sure that the ingredients we picked up get put in the refrigerator?’_ , and he told me that he would, and then he asked for tonight off. And look at what he didn’t fucking do!”

Jenna forcefully pulls open the door to the refrigerator and a bottle of ketchup that’s turning brown greets the two of them.

“So you know what?” Jenna continues. “I’ll give Ned off tonight. Yeah, and I’ll give Ned every night off after this because I swear to _God_ , I’m firing him.”

Jenna never swears to God. That’s, like, kind of her thing. This is _bad_. 

“What’re you gonna do?!” Tyler’s eyes widen. “You can’t fire the intern, he’s…the intern! You, like, need him for stuff!”

“At this point, everything Ned does, I can do better,” Jenna says. Which, in theory, is true…but it so isn’t. Jenna’s a _celebrity_ even though it doesn’t feel like it right now, standing next to her while she’s got rollers in her hair. In fact, Jenna’s even more of a celebrity than Tyler, even with those three Grammy nominations that he’s got under his belt now. So, no, Jenna _does_ need an intern. 

“I hate Ned too,” Tyler says bluntly. Because he does. The kid has a staring problem. “I’d rather not share a bus with him for a month and a half. But you _can’t_ fire him.”

“It’s too late to find another one,” Jenna crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ll make do with me, myself, and I. Maybe it’ll add even more to the charm to the show, instead of giving my groceries to Ned, the camera will catch me hauling ass all the way back to whatever venue we’re in.” 

The gist of Jenna’s show is that she’s following Tyler around on his sold-out East Coast tour, exploring the various cities they’re in, visiting local grocers and picking out fresh ingredients, and making _healthy, delicious_ snacks in venue kitchens. The premise probably wouldn’t have worked if Jenna didn’t already have two successful shows on the Network and if Jenna and Tyler hadn’t been friends since they were four. They’ve got natural chemistry that doesn’t look cheap and artificial on screen, viewers get insight on Tyler as an artist, and they learn all about tour life. It’s a win-win for all parties. 

“Maybe…” Tyler trails off. “I still think you should ask about someone new, though.” 

“This your way of asking me to hire Jay or Zack again?” Jenna jokes. 

And it totally shouldn’t set Tyler off, except it definitely _does_ because Tyler’s got First Night Nerves working against him. 

“Shut up,” Tyler forces out a laugh and hopes that the cameramen that are only a couple minutes away from filming them don’t catch onto the fact that he’s started sweating. “Last thing either of us need, I think. I’m gonna escape for a smoke before we go on.”

Jenna gives him the same look his mom gave him, the same one Brendon gave him, the same one that Ashley gave him, the same one that Sam gave him. It’s Tyler’s cue to bust ass and leave.

* * *

Tyler grew up in a loving home. He did. His parents actually supported his dreams when he told them he wanted to pursue music and they let him reinvent their basement when he got too broke to rent out a studio. Tyler’s first EP and the entirety of _Goner_ , his (and this still blows his mind, four months later _)_ Grammy nominated album, were both recorded there and he couldn’t have done it without their unwavering support. It’s just that their _unwavering_ support can be a lot to deal with. When he was a little kid, he used to get really bad heartburn and being around his parents for too long reminds him of that feeling, of his chest being on fire. Or maybe that’s his fucked up lungs. It’s hard to tell these days. 

Leaving home for a tour is always difficult, but this one feels different in his bones. He can feel the warmth of the standing room crowd from his spot in the back room and the murmuring fills a soft spot in his heart, but the entire thing is doused in gray. Whether that’s because his mom is glaring at Brendon and Ryan embracing each other from the other side of the room, whether that’s because for the first time in ever he’s actually _headlining,_ whether it’s because he’s actually got a spotlight on him with this whole _Grammy_ thing… 

The first date of the tour is in Columbus because he wanted to be at home so that his spirits could be eased but it feels like the entire world is counting on him. To do what, though? Put on a stupid fucking show? Be a good example for his community? Mentor _Ashley_? 

“Is that girl legal?” Tyler’s mom nudges at Tyler’s side and points across the room where Brendon’s laughing hysterically and pouring a celebratory bottle of champagne into Ashley’s mouth. 

“I…have no idea,” Tyler admits. “We met a couple of times, she seems pretty mature.”

“Someone could report that,” she says. “Your _friend_ never thinks before he acts.”

Tyler sighs and peers into his red cup of apple cider. His mom _strongly dislikes_ Brendon for all of the reasons that she should _strongly dislike_ Tyler too. There’s just a lot of substitution in Tyler’s life—apple cider instead of champagne, cigarettes instead of a man. Tour offers Tyler a brief glimpse of freedom, except he never takes advantage of it because it’s like. What the fuck is the point. Of anything. Ever. Tyler lives and bleeds misery. Being on tour with a bunch of fun people and a camera crew is going to be the death of him…and his lungs. He feels small in a crowded room, lost in the space where he’s supposed to be the star, and homesick for a 9 to 5 that he’s never had. 

A little while later, Ashley’s voice bursts through Tyler’s heart as he does breathing exercises with Sameer directly backstage. Every word that comes out of her mouth makes him feel inadequate, though. Here’s this twenty year old girl singing about _white sheets, bright lights, crooked teeth in the night life… You told me this is right where it begins…_ and Tyler’s never even…?

“Is it weird that she’s twenty?” Tyler yells over to Sameer after they both finish meditating to the sound of her screaming crowd. “I think it’s weird she’s twenty. What was I doing at twenty? Not this.”

Sameer rolls out his shoulders. “She’s talented, what do you want me to say?” 

“That it’s fucked up that she’s doing this at twenty.”

He shoots Tyler a tired look. “Fine, it’s fucked up that she’s doing this at twenty. But you’ve been doing this since you were twenty two. You’re losing me, man, I don’t get what—” 

“I don’t mean performing,” Tyler brings a hand to his head. “I just—she’s living a lot of life. That I’m not.”

Tyler and Sameer have been friends since Tyler’s first tour. Translation: Sam knows when Tyler’s about to fly off the deep end…even if he doesn’t know just how far the drop is. 

“We’re gonna be away from your parents for a month and a half,” Sameer says plainly. “No one here is gonna rat you out. Especially since Jenna kicked Ned off her bus. In fact, I think everyone on this tour is actively _rooting_ for you to catch a di—”

“It’s not about the _ratting out_ aspect,” Tyler lies a little. _That_ fear is still thrumming deep beneath the tar covering his lungs, it’s still present but at least it’s weighed down. “It’s that I won’t be able to quit it once I have it, you know.”

They keep talking about _it_ in a roundabout way. Because Tyler’s sure as fuck not going to say the words out loud. He’s an artist and a writer but he’s scared of communicating. What a fucking joke.

“I’ve told you this before…” Sam starts to say. Tyler’s face begins to turn red and he looks away. He knows what Sam’s going to say and it always makes him feel like total shit hearing it again. “You’re allowed to have the things that you want. You’re allowed to disappoint your parents no matter how much they guilt you into believing that you couldn’t have done this without them. You’re _allowed_ to be happy.”

“Yeah,” Tyler says loosely and without much meaning. “I guess.”

“I’m being so serious!” Sameer continues. “I have a really good feeling about this tour, I think something’s gonna change. I can feel it and _I swear_ it’s not Brendon’s weed talking..”

“You said that something was going to change for the better last tour and all I did was break my foot,” Tyler remarks dryly. 

“ _Speaking of that,_ ” Sam switches back to tour manager mode. “You’re not allowed to climb anything this tour, and I mean that.”

Tyler laughs. “Okay.”

“I _mean it._ ”

“I don’t have anything planned,” Tyler throws his hands up. “Swear it. You’ve watched me run through the show like four times.”

“That’s what you said last time and you—come on, man. Please. I know you think Clancy is fucking invincible, but you, _Tyler Joseph_ , are not.”

Tyler grins at him. “Not gonna do anything life threatening, swear it.”

“God, I _hate_ when you do that.”

“Smile?!”

“Yes! Because I know you’re up to something!”

Maybe that’s a testament to how miserable Tyler actually is, that he can’t even smile without someone thinking he’s up to something…but he’s got a stunt up his sleeve so he can’t even be too mad about it. He loves Sameer like a brother, but anything he does on the stage is between the crowd and Clancy, not him and anyone else. So…

“It’ll be fine,” Tyler promises Sam. “I wouldn’t do something stupid in front of my friends and family. We good?”

“Perfect,” Sam says sarcastically. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other–” Tyler begins to say before he gets interrupted by the sound of Ashley’s crowd roaring extra loud from a couple of feet away. 

“I just want to thank Clancy for bringing me out on this tour!” She screams into her microphone. True to what he told his mother, he’s only met Ashley a couple of times, but he can picture her running around on the stage all bouncy and bubbly. Her stage presence and music are both so different from his, it was strange to Tyler that Pete suggested that they tour together. But he said something about how they ultimately have similar themes in their songs, except Ashley gets laid way more than him. And then Pete had to chase Tyler down to apologize to him when he walked out of his office. “Are you guys ready for Clancy?!”

There’s the screaming again. Sam grins around the mouth of a water bottle and Tyler jokingly rolls his eyes.

“You guys know they’re filming a Food Network show too? Like, honestly, what the fuck is going on! I have no idea. Like seriously, what the fuck!” Ashley laughs breathlessly. “Oh wait, Clance doesn’t curse in his songs. Is this weird? Are we not allowed to say bad words? Can we say a bunch of curse words right now? Guys, let’s just say ‘fuck!’”

_‘Clance_!’ Sam mouths to Tyler, still laughing, and Tyler buries his head in his hands. He can picture his mom’s disapproving glance from a million miles away. And even though it’s not directed toward him, how could it, he didn’t do anything, it still sends a chill up his spine. He’s starting this tour and ending it in Columbus, the heart part of _Two Halves of My Heart_ , but he’s yearning to get out soon because he can’t fucking do this, the whole walking on eggshells shit. Not while he’s got Brendon attached to his hip, not while he’s on tour with Ashley who sings about _I’m a wanderess, I’m a one night stand, don’t belong to no city, don’t belong to no man,_ not while he’s got to be on his best behavior for a camera crew following him around. 

So maybe Sam was right about this tour changing his life for the better. Tyler’s counting on a win. 

* * *

Performing is an out-of-body experience for Tyler—as soon as he puts on that skeleton hoodie, Clancy takes over and works the stage. There are, though, little glimpses of the show that Tyler can remember vividly like he was the one in his body. He remembers Brendon jumping up dramatically when Tyler pretended to shoot him, and he remembers being on his knees at one point screaming _“TELL OUR DAD I’M SORRY!”,_ and he remembers the tired look on Sam’s face when he climbed up the rafters during _Anathema._ The crowd is always a blur to him because he’s not really paying attention to them, but he remembers catching a pair of warm brown eyes from the barricade during _Trees._ He looked away quickly, because he doesn’t ever want his fans to see through Clancy’s façade, but those eyes practically pulled him back in. 

There’s one benefit to himself in regards to the performance though—the adrenaline lasts well into the night. Even though Tyler doesn’t feel like he himself was on the stage tonight, his body sure fucking does. There’s an ache in his knees from how violently he threw himself down, his fingers are bruised from slamming them onto the piano keys, and he’s practically vibrating from the energy that the crowd gave off. Brendon’s favorite thing to do after he comes off the stage is to take shots and continue the high, but Tyler’s practically drunk off the feeling on its own—it made the goodbye that he had with his family way more bearable than it would have ever been pre-show. He hugged all of them, promised to call with updates, and swore that he would be good, just like he always does. His mother held his hands in hers for a moment before letting go and she told him that he didn’t have to give into anything if he felt like he was being peer-pressured. It’s the type of speech she would have given him at ten years old, but…what else is Tyler to do besides nod along? He’s got the sweet burn in his knuckles to keep him distracted from the fact that this is totally pathetic. 

“I’m fucking craving a milkshake right now,” Brendon says a little while later, while everyone waits around to get the show on the road. He paces around the green room, clearly unaware of what to do with his high now that he’s getting there. “I’m not even fucking joking, bro, I swear to God. I need a milkshake right fucking now.”

Tyler plays with the cracked skin between his fingers. “Good for you.”

“I want _McDonalds_ ,” Brendon complains louder. “Sammy, can we go to McDonald's.”

Sameer looks up from his laptop. And then he checks his watch even though there’s a clock on his laptop. Just Sam things. “I mean…technically, yeah. The busses aren’t gonna be ready for another hour.”

“Good!” Brendon flops down next to Tyler on the couch and he pokes at him. “Get your jacket.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tyler says. “You have a slew of people to choose from.”

“A _slew_?” Brendon makes a face. “Let’s _go_ , your mommy isn’t around. Maybe you can even get a large soda instead of a small!”

Tyler cracks a smile despite everything in his body begging him not to. Even though Brendon’s technically older than him, Brendon was the youngest child in his family and Tyler was the oldest. That kind of trait doesn’t just go away. “ _Shut up_. I can order a large soda without her permission.”

“Prove it to me then,” Brendon nudges at him. “I don’t want to walk alone, I’m a very beautiful man. You don’t know what could happen to me out there. People see me and they don’t know what to do with themselves.”

“If you’re scared of the dark, you could have just said that,” Tyler laughs. But he doesn’t budge. “Dude, seriously, go bother someone else. Ask Ashley, I thought I heard her say something about chicken nuggets.”

Brendon rolls off the couch unceremoniously. “Fine. I _will_ go ask Ashley. You suck.”

Once he’s gone, Sameer looks back up from his laptop. “I think he’s bummed out about Ryan leaving. Don’t tell anyone but I totally saw him crying over his last soggy taco.”

“Am I supposed to care about that?” Tyler asks. Which, okay, he knows he sounds like a dick, but… “This happens every time. It’s like they don’t know that they’re _touring_ musicians.”

“All I’m saying,” Sameer emphasizes, “is that you should go with him. I’ll come too if it makes you feel better about any fans coming up to you.”

Tyler doesn’t interact with fans all that much, besides occasionally on Twitter. It’s the whole Clancy thing. Like, _Clancy_ is the face of everything he does. He’s not the one on stage, Clancy is. His sadness is still his sadness, but it’s delivered to the world in the form of someone else. Someone who can get on stage and entertain for an hour and a half, someone who isn’t exhausted by the mere fucking thought of getting up and walking two blocks down to McDonalds. Clancy is the culmination of all of his darkness, but, in a way, it’s like the darkness is the only reason why he has what he has. When he purges himself of all of that shit, he becomes hollow and Clancy becomes full. Long story short, it feels cheap to talk to fans when it’s like…they tell him he’s saved their lives and it doesn’t make any sense because he can’t even save his own. 

“Don’t say it like I hate them,” Tyler says. He gets up to grab his jacket and he catches a whiff of cigarette smoke stuck in the fabric of it. Almost like a stream of prose, his second thoughts begin to hit him. Is he a terrible person for not wanting to talk to a bunch of strangers about his suicidal thoughts? Is he even allowed to consider his fans strangers when they’ve listened to his music and connected to it? When he caught those brown eyes in the audience, it was like Tyler could see a story in them, a story that _he_ had some sort of impact in, one way or the other. Clancy’s the messenger but Tyler’s the poet. He always forgets that aspect.

“I didn’t say anything,” Sam says. He shuts his laptop, grabs his coat, and follows Tyler toward the back of the venue. “I think the coast should be clear though, it’s been…like, two hours.”

Brendon, Ashley, and surprisingly Jenna are all huddled close together in the hallway by the back door by the time Tyler and Sam catch up to them. Beginning of January, usually Tyler would be freezing too, but there was something warm about that hallway…the red in the EXIT sign above the door was flashing at him and it reminded Tyler of a heartbeat. 

“We’re scared of bracing the cold,” Ashley explains when she sees Tyler and Sam looking at them in confusion. “Brendon was gonna light a joint to keep us warm but he didn’t wanna be crossfaded. And Jen—Jenna? _Jenna_ said no anyway.”

“Not ruining my Food Network image for weed that’ll make me sleep,” Jenna grins. “And yeah, I’m Jenna. I call you Ashley, right?”

“Yup,” Ashley confirms. “Ashley for my friends and family, Halsey on stage.”

“Kinda like Tyler!” Brendon exclaims. “Pete was right about the two of you being kinda similar.”

Tyler and Ashley share a shy smile before they look away. They’re both managed by _the_ Pete Wentz and it’s been known that anyone that Pete manages has to be a total fucking nutcase. So, yeah, sure, they’ve got that in common at least.

“Can you guys stop being babies?!” Sameer asks, returning to his tour manager mode. He switches a lot. “We’ve got fifty minutes and Brendon wanders when he’s been drinking. _Let’s go.”_

The cold lashes at Tyler’s ears when they all file out and face the cold head-on. Brendon lets out a loud laugh and when he clings to Jenna’s side, she embraces him. Their friendship never fails to confuse both Tyler and his parents, but…he digresses. He’d rather have them be friends than to have the relationship that Brendon and his parents have with each other, which is total animosity on both sides. 

“I really loved your show,” Ashley says to Tyler as they turn the corner out of the alleyway. “I don’t think I got the chance to tell you. _Addict with a Pen_ is my favorite thing you’ve ever written, you totally, um. Deserve the Grammy for it.”

Tyler suppresses the urge to cringe. “Oh…thanks.”

Truthfully, Tyler can’t think about it for too long without wanting to puke. _Grammy_. Acclaimed songwriters listening to a song that Tyler himself can’t even listen to anymore. 

“I, um…” he tries to come up with something to fill the awkward silence between them. “Liked your set a lot too. I like to meditate to the sound of a crowd and you engage them a lot more than me. The song where you’re like–”

And then their conversation is abruptly interrupted.

_“Holy shit,”_ a voice says. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, _holy shit._ I thought I was gonna miss you guys!”

Usually if there’s one fan, there’s a whole bunch of them. But this stranger is totally alone—the street is a ghost-town otherwise. When the stranger hesitantly walks up to all of them, Tyler instantly recognizes his eyes. He’s the fan at the barricade, the guy with the blue hair. Tyler doesn’t know why, but recognizing him instantly comforts him. 

“Hi,” Tyler says, stepping closer instead of instinctively hiding behind Sameer. “Didn’t miss us.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” the stranger says. He’s wearing a beanie that covers his entire head and when he reaches his hand out from his pocket to shake Tyler’s, he wears skeleton gloves. “You’re Clancy. You’re _Clancy_.”

“Yeah,” Tyler laughs a little, shaking the stranger’s hands. He’s wearing gloves too, but he swears he can feel the heat from the stranger’s hands on his. “Hi.”

“Hello,” the stranger says, his eyes so wide with excitement. “Sorry, uh, I’m—I’m Josh. I love your music so much, you saved my life.”

“Ty…” Sameer says gently as he tries to pull Tyler out of this situation, unaware that he’s… not hating this? “We gotta, um. Go soon.”

“Give me a second,” Tyler turns back for a brief second before he returns his attention to Josh. “Sorry, we were…well, it doesn’t matter. Thanks for, um. Loving the music. I appreciate it, man.”

“I can’t believe I’m talking to you,” Josh says, his attention focused solely on Tyler as if there aren’t four other people standing awkwardly behind him. “Holy _shit_. Sorry, I—I didn’t think I was gonna actually _meet you_ but I was waiting around and then it felt like—like, what if I left and then you came out right after I was gone? So I—sorry, Wow. You’re Clancy.”

“Yup, he’s _Clancy_!” Brendon exclaims sarcastically, trying to speed this along. He hates when people don’t acknowledge him. 

“Oh my God, you’re Brendon Urie!” Josh shrieks like he’s, for the first time, seeing everyone else.

Brendon’s frown turns upside down in a split second and Tyler internally groans. _Here we fucking go._

“Yes!” Brendon cheers. “Shit, I’m glad you waited in the freezing fucking cold because that moment was so worth the fact that my balls are about to fall off!”

Jenna brings a hand to her forehead. “Bren…” 

“Yeah!” Josh says, looking between all of them, still so bewildered. It would be kind of adorable if it weren’t for the fact that this is getting kind of old and Tyler’s wishing to be back inside. “Well, I quit my job to come to the show, so I didn’t have much to lose waiting around.”

Tyler and Jenna instantly share a glance. _Quit his job?_

“Oh wow,” Tyler says. “You shouldn’t have done that. I mean it’s—I mean, I appreciate it.”

“Your music saved my life,” Josh tells him. “I _had_ to. I was happy to! So, I might be unemployed now. It’ll be a funny story in twenty years.”

“Definitely a story,” Tyler agrees. He sticks his hands in his pockets. This is awkward now.

“Oh, wow,” Josh blinks. “I’m jobless.” 

“This now hitting you?” Brendon asks, poorly disguising a laugh as a cough since he’s an asshole. “Dude…”

“ _And_ I’m homeless,” Josh adds, a horror-stricken expression now crossing his face. It’s like right here, on this sidewalk in front of his idol and all of his idol’s friends (plus Ashley), he has come to the conclusion that he is totally fucked. “Fuck. Okay. Jobless and homeless. Okay…”

Tyler turns to look over to Sameer to see if he’s hearing this too. And oh, he’s hearing it. He’s intrigued as hell and totally off tour manager duty right now. “Wait, backtrack, backtrack. How are you _homeless_?!”

Ashley and Jenna both lean in closer to everyone to hear this story too. 

“My girlfriend and I broke up two nights ago…” Josh admits, looking between the five of them nervously. “I’ve been crashing on a friend’s couch. But it’s—it’s okay! I’ll be okay! I’ll figure it out. Again, tonight was so worth it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alive in my entire fucking life, I’d take a Clancy show over anything.”

Tyler remembers Josh so vividly from the show, his face was the only one that broke past that unofficial barrier between himself and Clancy. Josh looked at Clancy differently than anyone else did. 

“I feel awful,” Tyler says. “Really, I’m—I’m sorry, Josh. That sucks.”

“You said my name!” Josh laughs breathlessly for a moment before he composes himself. “I mean, I mean _thank you, Clancy_. I’ll be okay. I think.”

“Wait...” Jenna says softly, almost like she’s speaking to herself. “ _Ned_.”

“My name is Josh,” Josh says. “But you guys can call me whatever you want. Actually, forget I even corrected you, Jenna Black from the Food Network. Holy fucking _shit._ ”

“No,” Jenna shakes her head, “you don’t understand, I just—I just fired my intern! But maybe _you_ could be my new intern!”

_Everyone_ turns to look at her in shock, but Tyler especially. He felt terrible hearing that Josh quit his job just to see Clancy but…that’s about it? Nowhere in that weird guilt was a fucking _job offer_.

“What?!” Tyler and Josh say at the same time.

“Jenna,” Sam says wearily. Switching back to tour manager mode. “That might not be the smartest idea.”

“Why not?” Jenna asks. “I need a new intern, like, _right now._ I lied when I said I could do everything myself. Josh is _homeless_ and _jobless_ , he needs a place to sleep and a place to work. My people are still at the venue, we could set everything up right now. I’m so serious.”

“Can we talk about this?!” Tyler squeaks out. “What is _happening_?”

“I want Josh to live with us!” Brendon slurs, slowly beginning to sound like the alcohol has hit him. “I _like_ Josh. He knows me. I’m so lonely without Ryan...”

Everyone blinks at Brendon.

“Sorry,” Brendon looks around sheepishly. “Back to Josh. I’m all in favor of Josh touring with us!”

“Are you sure you didn’t smoke some of Brendon’s weed,” Tyler asks Jenna. “Be honest.”

“Jenna Black from the Food Network smokes weed,” Josh says. “Woah.”

“Now we _have_ to hire him,” Jenna says. “He knows all of my secrets.”

This is moving way too fast for Tyler. He feels like his head is spinning. He genuinely can’t tell if Jenna is joking or not. And the scary thing is, he doesn’t think she is. He thinks she’s actually genuinely offering a job to a _superfan._ All respect to Josh, but…

“Do I have any stake in this decision?” Ashley asks Sameer. “If I do, I want Josh to work on tour. I’ve been couch-surfing before, it sucks.”

“It definitely sucks, Halsey,” Josh reiterates. “But I don’t wanna make Clancy uncomfortable or anything…”

“Is this, like, a _thing_?” Tyler asks Sameer. “Like, can they do this?”

“I don’t make this decision,” Sameer says to both Ashley and Tyler. “That’s Food Network. Josh would _technically_ be their employee, not mine.”

“Oh, you’re the tour manager,” Josh says to Sameer. “I kept trying to figure out who you were. I’m Josh!”

Sameer blinks at him. “Yeah, I know.”

Another pause. “I’m Sam.”

And then there’s _another_ awkward moment as everyone sort of mulls this predicament in their heads. Everyone besides Brendon, who’s dancing in his spot and singing ‘Movin’ Out’ by Billy Joel under his breath…except he’s changed the lyrics so that he’s singing _“Mama, if that’s movin’ up then Josh…is movin’ in!”_ which is so stupid and it makes Tyler want to hit him. 

“So…” Jenna says. “I still need an intern.”

“And I’m still down!” Josh says enthusiastically. “But, um…”

Basically, this falls on Tyler. Well, it doesn’t, because Jenna is her own person and it’s, at the end of the day, her choice because she definitely _does_ need an intern, but Jenna gives Tyler a _look._ It says to him, _This is your fan who I'm trying to hire on the spot. Your jurisdiction, man._

Tyler glances back over to Josh and his brown eyes. And _God_ , Josh looks at him like he’s holding the entire universe in his hands. Tyler knows that that’s ultimately worth nothing, because Josh doesn’t even _know_ him, he knows _Clancy_ , but…there’s something in him that trusts Josh. There’s a warning sound going off in his head in the form of his mother yelling at him not to give into peer pressure, but it also reminds him of the red in the EXIT sign above the backdoor in the venue and how it beckoned him to get out of his head and leave. How it brought him here, to Josh.

“I don’t mind…!” Tyler finds himself saying. “I’d really, um. Love for you to join the tour family.”

Tyler runs through it in his head. There are so many people on tour, even more so now because Jenna’s joining him. Everyone’s gonna be on separate buses, this is no different than another crew member joining them. Jenna won’t be stressed about work anymore. Josh won’t fuck around because he needs this job and a place to sleep. The fact that Josh is a huge fucking fan and probably has major expectations of who Tyler is based on his music and the way he acts on stage and in interviews is…a nonfactor…haha…

He wishes he could grab Josh’s hands and tell him that he’s empty inside, truly. Warn him ahead of time that this isn’t going to be the fun tour experience he might think it is. But he can’t because that would be _crazy_.

“Oh my _God_ ,” Josh swallows hard. “Oh _fuck_. Someone pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming.”

“No time for that,” Jenna says. “Let’s talk to my manager and get you set up.”

“Whatever you say, Jenna Black from the Food Network!” Josh looks between Tyler and Sam one last time before he hurries along behind Jenna who’s already speed-walking toward the venue. “What is happening. What is happening? _What is happening_!!!!!!!”

“Get me a strawberry milkshake and a small order of fries!” Jenna turns to yell back to the rest of the group that’s still standing around, still shocked by…well, everything. “Josh, tell them your McDonald's order!”

“If I eat anything I’ll puke!” 

“Get the man a milkshake!” 

And then…it’s just Brendon, Ashley, Sameer, and Tyler standing on an empty sidewalk. Or, Ashley, Sameer, and Tyler standing on an empty street and Brendon running around in a circle on an empty street.

“What just happened,” Tyler asks them. “I feel like I’m in a dream right now.”

“Jenna just hired a homeless jobless fan of yours,” Sameer says, sounding thoroughly exhausted. “The real question is, why do I hate this less than you climbing stuff? Brendon, stop running, you’re gonna get sick.”

“Can I get my _fucking_ milkshake?!” Brendon yells at them. “Let’s discuss Tyler’s boyfriend _after_ we get milkshakes.”

Tyler turns bright red. 

Ashley laughs behind her hand. 

Sameer sighs and begins to lead the way. “Let’s just _please_ go before we run into more fans that Jenna wants to recruit. If the ice cream machine is broken, I’m going to be so pissed...”

**Author's Note:**

> one thing abt me: im GONNA have sameer gadhia in my fanfic. period. brown ppl tings <3 
> 
> anyway!! i've convinced myself that writing this fic will bring back some happiness to my life. i dont know if itll actually happen BUT ive been wanting to write this fic since 2019 so lets hope i can actually finish it and that it is good! clancy has lived rent free in my head for far too long. i say this about like literally iteration of tyler i ever write but he's like 500b tyler all grown up (with a healthy dose of poet!tyler) and more angsty and idk its just fun writing him all nervous and pent up and ':(' all the time even though i miss, with every fiber of my being, eapotato tyler just being like 'i ate eminem's ass last night' and everyone being like ok tyler -_- 
> 
> tyler's album 'goner' is a mix of NPI and self titled 21p with a dash of blurryface. please know that there is NO 'before you start your day' on tyler's album cuz i dont like dat song -_- i actually have the track list but it'll come up in the fic im sure. 
> 
> my tumblr is thatbluelight *drew monson voice* please leave me a fucking comment im very lonelyyyyyyyy


End file.
